A Date with Delhi

Well, after 17 hours in the air (not including connection times), and a seat mixup by Lufthansa that led to many apologies on their part and (more importantly) a music-to-our-ears offer of "All the champagne you can drink at no charge",  here we are -- a bit bleary-eyed and discombobulated but still alive and kicking. Hello Delhi! 

Now, after 3.5 hours of sleep, and one full day of touring under our belts, here are some quick observations about Delhi: 

There is a lot more green space in Delhi than we expected.  For some reason, we had decided that Delhi was going to be a concrete jungle.  It's not. Tree-lined streets are laid out on a grid with landscaped roundabouts and plenty of manicured parks and gardens. It seems India has the British to thank for this as they designed it all in the early 1900s so we'll give them the credit -- even though the Brits only got to enjoy it for another 20 years or so before they handed India back to India.   

Chaos rules on the roads of Delhi.  Not surprising, I know, but there truly is nothing like riding in a car here.  Road markings and lanes? What are those? Roundabouts are used by India's drivers in ways that I'm fairly sure the British never anticipated when they introduced them.  It can be hair-raising and scary at times, but everyone seems to take all the chaos in stride. In some areas, traffic moves at a snail's pace (and this was Sunday!). Cars, scooters, tuk-tuks, and rickshaws all jostle for position, honking incessantly, sitting on each other's bumpers and squeezing into any available space they can find without anyone ever seeming to lose their cool.  Perhaps it is like what our guide told us today. All you need to drive in Delhi is, "a good car, good brakes and good luck." 

Entrepreneurship is alive and well.  Everyone seems to have something to sell here - whether you want it or not.  Books that went out of print 30 years ago, Nike knock-off running shoes, flammable clothing, giant plastic buddhas, video games from the1980s. You name it, they've got it.  People simply pull up a piece of sidewalk, lay out their wares, and they're in business.  Sometimes, these pop-up enterprises spill out onto the road where they take over lanes of traffic.  No problem.  Cars just drive around them.  I mean, it's not like Delhi has a congestion problem, right?

Men pee everywhere in Delhi. Why should a man limit himself to low-key washrooms should nature call when he can pee with abandon for all to see anywhere ...  on brick walls, off bridges, onto railway tracks etc. etc? When Liam and Devlin were little, they got a big kick out of peeing on trees when we were camping, or peeing their names in the snow. (I liked to think that it improved their penmanship.) However, these are grown-ups, for God's sake! But, as Jim likes to remind me, a small part of the boy still exists within every man, and I guess we have our proof here. I will spare you the photos. Actually, I don't have any photos because my photographer (aka "Mr. James" as our Guide calls him very formally) refused to take them.

Here are a few highlights of Day One: 

After a wild drive through Old Delhi's back streets, we arrived at Jama Masjid. This is India's largest mosque and it is quite imposing.  Built in the mid 1600s, it took 50,000 workman six years to construct. 

A flight of red sandstone steps leads to a huge square courtyard where over 20,000 worshippers can be accommodated during prayer time. There are two towers that offer spectacular views of New Delhi although women must have a male escort to enter. No man. No view. 

 As shoes are not allowed in the mosque, our guide gave us disposable slippers and I was handed a long robe to cover up my capri pants. Suddenly, I looked ready for bed ... something I was not opposed to in my jet-lagged state.   

Next stop was the Gandhi Museum, built on the site of his 1948 assassination. The museum itself is barebones (no razzle dazzle multimedia shows here) but it seems fitting for the subject. Actually, it's kind of refreshing.  Four rooms hold a series of compelling photos that cover his life and work, as well as letters and memorabilia including everything from Gandhi's iconic round eyeglasses to the blood-stained robes he was wearing when he was shot, and one of the bullets that killed him.  

India Gate was primarily built to recognize the sacrifices of Indian and British soldiers who died in World War I.  It is positioned at the end of a long boulevard, and is lit up a night in a dramatic fashion.  In front of India Gate is a sandstone canopy which was installed as a tribute to King George V after his death in the 1930s. This monument originally included a statue of George himself but it was "relocated" when the British left India in the 1940s. Sorry, George, but nothing is forever. 

Humayun's Tomb was built to house the remains of the second Mughal emperor who fell off a flight of steps at the age of 49 and died. Not a very regal ending, I agree. Think his tomb looks familiar?  Yes, it was the inspiration for the Taj Mahal. It was thundering and lightening like mad while we were inside the mausoleum (Apparently, the only rain in March for Delhi since 1913. Of course. Nature waits for the Brands to show up.), and the sound was bouncing off the marble walls. Very atmospheric. We were waiting for Humayun to flip his marble coffin lid and rise from the dead at any moment. Thankfully, he stayed put. 

Last stop for the day was the Qutb Minar (tower), built in the late 1100s and, to this day, the second tallest tower in India at 73 metres (or 234 feet for all you on-the-metric-cusp imperial-ists). Well done, poor unfortunates from the 1100s who had to lug giant stones, gravel and sand up 73 meters using nothing but bamboo scaffolding (that can't be safe!) , pulleys and ropes. The tower remains an awesome sight with detailed carvings and verses from the Qur'an circling its exterior in bands.  The interior staircase has been closed since a power outage in the 1980s caused the interior lights to go out,  leading to a stampede that killed 45. The tower has also been hit numerous times by lightening over the years (not to mention a couple of earthquakes) and has tilted to such a degree that its stability is in question. Jim and I had this photo taken in a hurry. 

A bit of trivia for you. The Qutb Minar was a pitstop on the second season of the Amazing Race.  "Helen and Jim, you are the last to arrive."  

Standing next to the Qutb Minar is the foundation of a partially completed Minar by "Mr. I'll-See-Your-Minar-And-Raise-It-A-Whole-Lot-Taller", Alauddin Khilji. He was a follow-up Indian ruler who decided he would build a tower that would be twice the height and breadth of Qutb Minar .. and he'd do it right next door. Unfortunately, he died before accomplishing his dream.  Apparently, no one shared his vision and this is what everyone sees today. We're going to go out on a limb and say that this was not the big finish he was going for. 

Off to Varanasi tomorrow. Another plane.  Another day. Can't wait. 

You say Banaras. I say Varanasi.

Greetings from Varanasi, a city that is to Hindus what Mecca is to Muslims.  It is the spiritual birthplace of Hinduism and is often referred to as the Holy City of India. The city dates back to the 11th century BC and is considered one of the oldest, continuously inhabited cities in the world. Varanasi's population is 3.6 million and growing.  That doesn't include the millions of pilgrims who come every year from around the world to bathe in the Ganges River to remit their sins or cremate their dead and spread the ashes. 

Varanasi was originally called Banaras. This was changed in the late 1960s to reflect the two rivers that run through the city -- Varuna and Asi. However, a good name dies hard it seems, because the locals still call the city Banaras.  But why stop at two names?  It is also referred to as Kashi or the City of Light for good measure.  Today, Varanasi is home to over 3.2 million Indians of Hindu, Muslim and Buddhist faiths.  

On our way from the airport to our hotel in Varanasi, our Airport Meet and Greet guy, Rahula, was providing us with an overview to the city. Born and raised here, he proudly proclaimed that, "Everyone wants to die when they come to Varanasi." We decided that, aside from having great potential as a marketing slogan, we don't think that Rahula meant to suggest that we wanted to die, like, today. 

Rahula was full of great quotes. As we drove along, he described the cremation process. We were told that it takes approximately 4 hours to complete, and uses about 240 kilograms of wood. That's a lot of lumber. In the midst of this description, he suddenly announces excitedly, "There is a body on top of that car ahead! See it? It is sparking." Oh God, we thought.  Do they actually start burning the body on the way to the Ganges? Is the wind causing the body to spark on top of the car? When we got closer, we could see that the body was covered with a blanket decorated with sequins. Rahula had meant to say 'sparkling' not 'sparking'. Great relief. 

The Ganges is the most sacred river in India for Hindus. Every evening, a spectacular Aarti ceremony takes place on its Ghats (steps) as a way of giving thanks for all that the Ganges offers. Getting there is quite an experience as a car can only take you part way. The rest of the distance is travelled by foot, as you weave your way through traffic, merchants, and beggers, avoiding cows lying on the sidewalk, dogs fighting with each and literally thousands of  pilgrims, each one of them headed for the same place as you. Along the way, the smells range from freshly made pakoras to freshly made cow dung. Oh, and we  had to run when a bull on the sidewalk got a little upset and lunged towards the crowd. A bit of a heart stopper.

On the Ghats, Hindu priests perform the sundown ceremony before hundreds gathered, giving thanks to the Ganges using various symbolic item such as conchs, fire and rose petals to represent and entertain the goddess Ganga.  It is absolutely mesmerizing and an unforgettable experience.

Cremation ceremonies are performed on designated "Burning Ghats", 24 hours a day, 365 days of the year, Monsoon or shine. An average of 200 bodies are cremated every day. Bodies are brought to the Ganges by the male members of the families. Women are not allowed to participate because crying is not allowed, and apparently, we can't be trusted not to sob hysterically.  And, as an added bonus, our tears are, apparently, pollutants. So, while the women folk sit at home polluting their living rooms, a team of what can only be described as professional fire starters, from the lowest caste (even though the caste system isn't supposed to exist any longer) weigh each piece of firewood on giant scales. The price of cremation calculated, wood is laid beneath and over the body in a very specific way. This is an important step. If a cremation is not done correctly, the soul of the departed will be disturbed and may come back to haunt living relatives. And no one wants that.  

Photos of the cremation ceremonies are not allowed, understandably. 

Now, here's where it gets a little odd, certainly by North American standards.  The oldest son must visit the Ghat commissioner who is required to barter with the bereaved son over the cost of the matches that will be needed to start the fire. This price varies widely depending on what the commissioner feels the family can afford. Apparently, things can get very heated as the final price is decided (no pun intended).  Only when a price is agreed upon can the cremation take place.  No one knows where this tradition started, or why you would put a mourning family member through this.  It is just the way it is.

It is a very strange and unsettling site to see bodies burning on the Ghats, but after spending two days with Hindi guides, and watching rituals being performed in temples, we have come away with this. Hindus not only accept death as part of life, they embrace it fully ... even seem to look forward to it in a way.  Although they believe in reincarnation, their end game is to NOT come back.  They try to achieve this by evolving through many rebirths (sometimes millions of reincarnations) and doing good deeds until all karmas have been resolved, and they achieve Moksha (or merging back with the Oneness). 

Each morning at sunrise, more pilgrims come down to the Ghats to "take a dip" in the Ganges, partially because they hope it will rid them of their sins and speed up Moksha. However, while pilgrims consider the Ganges waters to be pure, it is anything but. After years of open sewer run off, cremated ashes and various leftovers thrown in, the Ganges is very polluted. This fact, however, doesn't seem to stop anyone. People float in the water, pour the water over their heads, drink the water (!), wash their clothes and apparently blame any illnesses they get from this experience on everything but swimming in the Ganges. Jai, our Guide, who is Hindu, says he plans to achieve Moksha by praying a lot and doing good deeds. He is willing to be reborn for all eternity if it means he will never have to step foot in the Ganges. That probably tells you all you need to know about the state of this river.  

Off to Agra next to witness an iconic palace and a tragic love story.

Toto, I've Got a Feeling We're Not in Kansas Anymore

The Taj Mahal. Like many people, this iconic building has been on our must-see list for a long time. It doesn’t disappoint. After arriving through a main gate, and turning to walk through a grand gateway, suddenly, there it is. I'd say, “It’s hard to describe” but I think I’ve said that about almost everything we’ve seen in India. Okay, I'll say it one last time. It's hard to describe the feeling you get when this image comes to life. It's like finding the Emerald City except lines of azure fountains running the entire length of the garden takes the place of the yellow brick road. It is, simply, magical with a white Makrana marble exterior that glows against the blue sky.  It takes your breath away. Our Guide told us that he has had many guests start to cry when they see it for the first time. For this reason, he always carries extra kleenex with him.

In case you don't know the story behind the Taj Mahal, here is the short version. It was built by Mughal Emperor, Shah Jahan, as a mausoleum for his recently deceased wife. She had died soon after giving birth to their fourteenth child. No real surprise there, I suppose. Only six of the fourteen children had survived .... four sons and two daughters. Shah Jahan started construction on his tribute to his beloved wife in 1632. Twenty years and 20,000 craftsman later, it was completed.  

Unfortunately, while the Emperor was busy overseeing construction, his third oldest son was hatching a diabolic plan to take over the reigns of power. Instead of patiently waiting his turn, the son had fast tracked his assent by killing off his two older brothers and later murdering his younger brother. To seal the deal, just as construction finished on the Taj, he put his father under house arrest in the Red Fort down the road. Shah Jahan lived there in a suite of rooms with a view of the Taj until he died eight years later.  He was then interred next to his wife at the Taj Mahal so I guess he got to enjoy his hard work then. Better late than never, I suppose.  

Fine filigree work, semi precious stone inlays and stencils are used throughout the mausoleum.  This screen is one piece of marble cut into this intricate pattern, approximately 8' x 6'.  One mistake and you would get to start all over again.

 The iconic domed roof is a common feature of Muslim and Persian architecture. 

Four minarets (or towers) frame the Taj Mahal. Each was built with a slight outward lean so the main mausoleum would be protected should a tower collapse. 

The inner marble coves of the arches were carved in a web pattern to deter spiders from building cobwebs. Apparently, it worked because they've never had to bring out the fuzzy duster. 

This is one small border section of marble inlay using lapis, jade and fire stone.  There are thousands of feet of this throughout the Taj. 

Black marble text from the Qur'an is inlaid in white marble around the entranceways to the Taj. The text actually gets larger as it moves up the columns so the entire text reads as being the same size. A nice little optical correction.   

Over 3 million people visit the Taj Mahal each year. Most of them showed up on the day we visited.  

This was my best "Princess Diana at the Taj" imitation.  I may look happy but I was crying inside as I thought about about my cheating husband, Charles and that horsy harlot, Camilla.  

The mosque on the Taj grounds still calls followers to prayer every Friday but only the descendants of labourers who worked on the Taj Mahal may attend. Many still live in the area.  

We couldn't seem to get enough of the Taj so we rose the next morning at 5:30 am and headed across the river to watch the sunrise come up in the Moon Garden. This is where it was rumoured that the Emperor was planning to build a black Taj Mahal,made entirely of black marble, to act as a literal shadow to the one across the river. He only got the foundation in place (it is still there) before his no-good son threw him in the Fort. When we arrived, there was dew on the grass, fog (at least we like to think it was fog) in the air, and the call to prayers was echoing through the field from a nearby mosque. The best part tho'? No one was there so we got to enjoy the Taj in all its splendour, all by ourselves.  In India, that's a very rare thing indeed.